


Counseling

by hakaseheart



Series: Counseling [1]
Category: Kaizoku Sentai Gokaiger, Kamen Rider Fourze
Genre: AU, Crossover, High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-28
Updated: 2012-05-14
Packaged: 2017-10-31 20:37:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 7,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakaseheart/pseuds/hakaseheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter what, nobody ever wants to be in the school office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Week 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [butyoumight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/butyoumight/gifts).



No matter what, nobody ever wants to be in the school office. There's never any music, no chatter, and the only thing to really listen to is the endless click-clack of fingernails on keyboard keys. It's the worst place in the world to be, and JK is stuck there.

He hikes up the pink hood of his sweater a little further, if just to hide his face away from the other student also trapped in the waiting area outside the school counselor's door. JK knows he's seen the boy around before, but he can't quite place where, and he's not sure he wants to know, judging by the angry purple bruise sitting smartly on the boy's jaw.

The jukebox in the back of JK's mind starts up with a ska song he heard the day before, and his knee starts bouncing in time with the beat. It's a struggle to keep himself occupied at times like these, when all he wants to be doing is talking and shmoozing and probably anything except sitting in the school office. Then again, it's him doing those sort of things that's landed him a meeting with the school counselor in the first place.

His eyes glance up at the large clock on the wall. It might be wrong - school clocks are usually at least five minutes off - but he knows his appointment seems to be running at least fifteen minutes late. When he looks back down he can't help but look back at the sullen boy sitting across from him, sitting there quietly with not a trace of impatience across his face.

The boy notices and their eyes meet.

"What?" he asks, as if the bruise on his chin doesn't even hurt.

JK looks away as fast as he can manage, slouching down further in the chair and hiking the hood up a little further. "Nothing, nothing at all." He can't even see the other boy's eyes, but he knows that they're narrowing angrily.

"You got a problem?"

It's said almost dismissively, and the tone strikes JK as odd. For a moment he risks a glance back, and sees that the boy isn't even looking at him anymore.

"Don't we both?" The glare swings back and JK stands his ground this time, carefully testing the other boy. "That's why we're here, yeah?"

There's a long, quiet moment of discomfort between them, and it seems like even the secretary has stopped typing. Then, out of nowhere, the smallest hint of a smile tugs at the corner of the other boy's face.

"Yeah. I guess we do."

The office door opens and another student exits. "Joe?" comes the counselor's voice, and the other boy stands up. "Thanks for coming." The boy named Joe gives JK one more nod before following the counselor into the office, and as the door closes JK wonders exactly how much longer he's going to have to wait today.


	2. Week 2

It's a waste of time.

It's not like Joe doesn't know why he's been forced to see the counselor every week, scheduled as regularly as any other class or after-school activity. Only three months have passed since the accident, only eight weeks since he stopped even bothering with homework, and nine days since two upperclassmen were sent home with injuries after 'falling down the staircase'.

No, Joe knows full well why he's here. He just doesn't want to be.

He thought about running at first. After all, the teachers can't preach to him if they can't find him. But he's not strong enough yet to live on his own, especially without a complete high school education. He knows of shadier paths he could take if he wanted to jump ship, but they're not tempting to him.

Not yet, at least.

So he's here, waiting outside the counselor's office for the second week in a row. All he has to do is convince the adult that everything is fine and he should still graduate next year, on time. It shouldn't be a problem, really – he's convinced far more important people of far more impossible things before.

Then, just like last week, the boy with the wild hair and colorblind fashion sense walks in and plops himself in a chair across from Joe. There's no real greeting there, nothing formal or official, and Joe is simultaneously relieved and annoyed at his cavalier attitude.

He's staring. He doesn't mean to, but his thoughts are running on their own and his eyes follow suit. It doesn't take long for the other boy to notice, to look up, to meet his eyes and give him a smile that Joe is almost sure has to be fake.

“Hey,” the boy says with a nod. “Long time, no see.”

Joe snorts lightly and looks away. It's only been a week.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees the other boy shrug and lean back in the chair. They sit this way in silence for nearly five minutes, each of them taking turns sneaking glances up at the clock to see how much time they might have left before their turn in the office.

Then, “It's Joe, right? Joe Gibken.” Joe turns and glares at the other boy, who throws his hands up in a submissive gesture. “Hey, it's no biggie, I was just curious about you, so I asked around.” 

Joe shrugs. “Yeah? Like what you hear?”

The atmosphere seems to lighten, and Joe isn't at all sure how. But the other boy tugs on the collar of his yellow-striped hoodie and gives him a slightly more genuine smile. “Sounds like you got a real rough time, that's all. Maybe you need a friend?”

Joe opens his mouth to reply, but then the office door opens, another student leaves, and Joe's name is called. He stands to comply, and when he looks down at the other boy, all he gets is a grin and a wave.


	3. Week 3

JK tells himself that everyone was busy after school today, with projects or schoolwork or...other various sundry things that tend to pop up around their group of friends. It's not a lie, per se, but it's bending the truth enough that it still weighs heavily on his shoulders when he walks into the school office and plops down in his new favorite chair outside the guidance counselor's office.

Two weeks of counseling have turned into two weeks of lying as to why he isn't doing his homework, why he can't handle the school dress code, why he cares more about the next party than his next class. As silver as JK's tongue is, he knows his lies are getting thinner and thinner, and if the counselor doesn't give up on him soon, something will have to change. 

He just prays it isn't him.

His eyes dart up to the clock out of habit. He's arrived early, probably too early, even before the other boy's scheduled start time. But the other boy – Joe Gibken, second year, class 2-D, loner – isn't here yet. He can't help but think of Joe in labels and descriptors. It's normal for him.

Time ticks slowly by and the other chairs remain empty. The secretary types away somewhere in the background and JK wonders if he should've taken his time getting to the office after all.

Just when JK is wondering if Joe isn't going to show up after all, the taller boy breezes in and takes his seat across from him. For the first time JK fully notices the boy's long black hair, tied back in a ponytail so neat most of the school's girls must be envious. 

He also notices the ugly, purple bruise radiating out from Joe's left eye.

Joe crosses his arms and looks away, although JK can't tell if it's from disinterest or discomfort at his blatant staring. “What?”

JK checks himself and closes his jaw. It'd be no good to be too pushy, not when it was still this early. “Was wondering if you'd show up,” he answers lamely. “Good to see you.”

“Not like I have a choice,” Joe snorts, and his eyes come a little closer to meeting JK's. 

“Ah, choice,” JK finds himself quickly replying, the words tumbling out of his mouth faster than he even thinks of them. “We all have choice, whether we know it or not. But our choices now limit our choices later, and that's where it gets tricky.” He doesn't know where the words come from, but he's pretty sure they're not his own. “For example, we could both choose to blow off counseling and go have some real fun.”

Joe quirks an eyebrow at JK's sudden philosophizing. “And consequences be damned, huh?”

JK leans back and shrugs. “Not all negative consequences are unwanted.”

A moment passes in silence, save for the click-clack of computer keys, before Joe smirks and looks away. “We don't always need the things we want.” Then the office door opens, Joe's name is called, and JK wonders if either of them really could have walked out in the first place.


	4. Week 4

He knows before he enters the office that the other boy will be there. It was obvious last week that the wild-haired kid had arrived early just to talk to him, and sure enough, he's there this week as well. Joe can see him perk up the moment he walks through the door, and something in his chest twists painfully.

“Yo,” the kid greets him with a casual hand gesture. “On time this week?”

Joe pauses in front of his seat, thinking for a moment. It's no longer accidental, their meetings and brief exchanges, and it's time for them to meet on equal footing. “JK,” he says simply, looking at the floor before moving his gaze to the other boy. He can see surprise flit briefly across his face before the emotion is pushed aside for something more comfortable. “I can ask around too.”

He sits down in the same seat as every other week, crossing his arms and finally pinning JK with an icy stare. JK is squirming in his seat, nothing terribly noticeable, but Joe takes note and files the reaction away for future reference. It's obvious JK doesn't like to be caught off guard.

“So you can,” JK finally replies, his face a mask of bemused indifference. “Like what you hear?”

“Not really.” Joe sees JK flinch, ever so slightly. “Not like it matters much.”

Confusion knots JK's brow, and the boy tugs lightly on the strings of his purple hood. “Is that so?”

Joe isn't sure how to respond. It's obvious to him why it doesn't matter, but if JK doesn't see it, he's not entirely sure he'd be the right one to explain it.

A voice echoes through his memory: _Actions speak louder than words_. The voice is warm and familiar and private in all the ways those voices are supposed to be, and when he looks to it for guidance he finds the pain that he's been running away from for the last four months. When he looks at JK next he's sure he must have winced, because the confusion from before has given way to concern.

Real concern, Joe can tell. Not a mask.

He shrugs and looks away. “You in any clubs?”

Again JK is taken off guard, and the emotion shows clearly on his face before the facade slips back on. It's fake and upbeat and makes Joe a little bit more at ease. “Sort of,” JK answers slowly. “Nothing I can't skip.”

His chest twists again. That was decidedly not what he wanted to hear, but he's willing to accept it for the time being. “Good to know.”

Silence falls on the office again, something that was almost unbearable three weeks ago, but now feels just as comfortable as JK's false cheer. Joe wonders to himself what JK is thinking, what the other boy wants out of all this. 

When Joe's name is called and he stands to enter the office, he takes one last look down at JK. The kid looks only partly confused and Joe finds that he doesn't mind that after all.


	5. Week 5

The piece of paper is crumpled at this point, having been pocketed and unpocketed again half a dozen times in the last half hour, but JK isn't too concerned. The map on it is still clearly understandable, even though JK hadn't really needed directions to the old dirt track in the first place. But Joe had given it to him before walking out the door, and JK figures it's only polite to at least show up with the paper in hand.

It's not an especially nice day out, but it's been a few days since the last heavy rain and the track isn't nearly as muddy as it could be. JK picks his way along the outer edge, avoiding the nastiest bits as he works his way towards the treeline. It's not marked on the map, but JK doesn't need the map to see Joe's figure silhouetted against the dimming horizon.

Something about the situation slows his feet, and he takes his time hiking up the hill to where Joe is waiting. The closer he gets, the more he realizes that Joe isn't even looking at him. Instead, the taller boy is standing there, fists clenched, eyes cast down to the grass, and JK is hit by a feeling of oddness so strong he almost turns tail to run.

Almost.

He's seen scarier things before. Monsters, both human and otherwise, and things most normal people would never believe. Things that even Joe wouldn't believe. The fact that he typically hides from all these things is irrelevant, and JK finds himself bolstered by the realization. He lets his shoulders slouch, slides the arrogant attitude back into his walk, and strolls up to Joe.

“Yo,” he says, and waits.

Joe's fists flex once, twice, and then his hands relax and open up. The boy lifts his head, slowly, until he's looking JK clearly in the eye. The urge to flee starts to rise again, but JK fights it down.

“Hit me.”

The words are short and clear, and JK wants to ask him to repeat himself because they don't make sense, except they couldn't have been anything other than that. He knows his shock shows on his face, and his mouth opens and closes a few times, but he can't find words, and he feels almost naked.

Joe keeps staring at him. “Come on. Hit me.” The boy tilts his chin slightly, presenting JK with an easier target. Black hair that was resting easily on his shoulder falls away in a slow black curtain, and JK can see the last remnants of the bruise still healing around his eye.

The world seems to slow down, maybe stop, and JK isn't even sure he's breathing at the moment. He can see it in Joe's eyes, the resolution. The determination. The desperation.

This is a test. One that he never thought to study for.

JK takes a deep breath, straightens himself up, and runs for it.


	6. Week 6

Joe sees JK first.

Ever since they'd met outside the counselor's office, Joe had started catching glimpses of the flamboyantly energetic boy around school. It wasn't that he was actively trying to see JK, it was just that the boy was nearly impossible to miss. Purple tiger stripes have a way of standing out.

But after last week, at the dirt track, Joe had been going out of his way to avoid JK at all costs. There's still one more day until he has to deal with the wait in front of the counselor's office, and he's been working on some sort of plan for that. Likely showing up late and flat-out ignoring the boy.

In the meantime, however, avoidance is Joe's number one tactic. 

It's the end of the day and most of the student body is heading home after school. Some are heading to club activities, some are leaving with groups of friends, and a good number are milling around and talking aimlessly. While a nagging bit in the back of his head pesters him for essentially running away, Joe ignores it and bolts for the nearest door back inside the school building. If he heads to the boys' locker room now, before most of the athletes gather there to prepare for after-school sports, he can likely slip out the gym's side door and escape JK altogether.

The hallway from the courtyard to the locker room is oddly deserted, but Joe knows better than to question such good luck. The nagging voice takes on familiar qualities, ones he remembers hearing in dark rooms on quiet nights, and he almost stumbles as he turns the corner and sees JK standing there.

Instead, he stops, and stares. It doesn't make sense, how JK is here. _Why_ JK is here.

But there's no mistaking those purple tiger stripes.

The boy is standing with his head lowered, feet slightly apart, fists balled. When Joe's shoes squeak on the hallway floor, he raises his head and his eyes meet Joe's.

Joe finds himself swallowing. 

JK isn't wearing a mask.

The smaller boy closes the distance between them in a few long strides and pauses just two feet away from Joe. His eyes are burning with some kind of fire, something Joe hasn't seen in a long time, and he knows what's coming before JK's fist connects with his cheek.

He feels the pain blossom on his cheekbone, then spread dully across the rest of his face. Instinct kicks in and he lets his head roll with the punch, brings his left hand up to dance gently across the surface of his skin. When he looks at JK next, he knows without needing a mirror that he's grinning.

Their eyes connect and there's a shared understanding between them, or at least, that's the only way Joe can see it. That's the way it's supposed to be.

Out of respect, he lets the grin fade before swinging his fist at JK's left eye.


	7. Week 7

The ground is cold, but Joe obviously doesn't care, and JK's come too far to start worrying about comfort now. So the two of them sit on either side of the large oak tree, looking off in opposite directions, waiting for one or the other to start talking first.

JK doesn't want to start. There are things he wants to ask, definitely. His natural curiosity and greed for information is nagging at the back of his head with a million questions, but his link to Joe still feels too tenuous. Too fragile, to risk breaking by pushing too much. 

He's come too far. 

Every time he thinks that the bruise underneath his eye twinges. And he smiles.

“Why are you here?”

Joe starts first. It's a simple, blunt question and JK almost ponders his answer before just saying the first thing that comes to mind. 

“Because I want to know you better.” Intentions aside, it's still the truth. The words make him feel exposed, despite the two extra brightly colored layers, and JK hugs his knees a little closer to his chest.

There's a quiet sound from the other side of the tree, and JK wishes he could see Joe's face. If he knew the other boy's expression, he'd know how to act, what to say, what to do. 

That's probably why the tree is there.

“So ask me something.”

JK sorts through his thoughts. There are a dozen places he could start, from favorite anything to most embarrassing moment, but all those ideas seem so juvenile (despite the fact they're both still in school together) and he's painfully aware that his first question could set the tone for the rest of the week.

And then he has the question that's been on his mind, since so near to the beginning, that he wants to ask and is scared to ask all the same, and he doesn't know if he asks it if Joe would even respond. But once the question is in his head nothing else surfaces, and he takes a deep breath and asks.

“Who's Sid?”

The silence that falls on either side of the tree is palpable, and JK immediately regrets the question. He could try to take it back, try to apologize, but somehow he knows that the only way to save any sort of face with Joe is to stick it out to the end.

After too long, Joe's voice comes from the other side of the tree. “My senpai,” he says quietly, his voice even and resigned in a way that makes JK's stomach twist. “He died.”

There's only one thing JK can say to that.

“Yeah. I know.”


	8. Week 8

It's loud.

Joe's not sure he can describe the situation any better than that. He's been to parties like this before, a year ago, when he was still desperate to make friends. Desperate to find someone to confide in, to hide with, to be himself around. Parties hadn't really attracted him then, and they certainly don't attract him now.

This one is at a karaoke place, in an area of town he barely knows, filled to the point of packed with people he only barely knows. Some he recognizes from school, even out of uniform, but most are complete unknowns to him. He wonders, idly, if JK even knows every person there. He has a feeling he already knows the answer.

Then JK appears. One moment Joe is surrounded by strangers, and then it's like the sea of kids parts and JK strolls through the waves with ease. His mouth is smiling, and he laughs and jokes with others as he amicably makes his way to Joe's side. 

His mask is on, but it's cracking. Joe grimaces.

“Hey there! Having fun?” JK says immediately, a line practiced and repeated a million times, because he doesn't even wait for Joe's response before continuing. “There's actual karaoke going on in the room down the hall, but this room here's about to start a quote-unquote fashion show, which, if you ask me, is always worth sitting in on. You never know when-”

Joe claps one hand heavily on JK's shoulder, which has the desired effect of shutting him up. “JK,” he says quietly, looking around them quickly before meeting the other boy's eyes. “I need to talk to you.”

The mask slips a bit, and Joe can see true concern in JK's eyes. “Uh, yeah, sure. What's up? Need a drink?”

“No.” The party carries on around them, like they aren't even there, exactly like Joe thought it would. “Let's go somewhere quiet.”

There's a moment where he can tell that JK is desperately trying to come up with something clever to say, some way to make a joke out of his simple request. But then the moment passes and the boy nods, his feather-laden hair bobbing gently as he looks for the nearest escape route. “This way,” he finally says, and tugs Joe along by the cuff of his jacket sleeve.

It's then that Joe notices the quick glances, the questioning looks, as they weave their way through the crowd and into a side stairwell. But it's empty, and quiet, and that's all that matters.

“So what's up?” JK asks, still smiling.

All Joe can do is shake his head. “You needed a rest.”

Confusion spreads over the boy's face, then understanding, and the mask fades away to show the exhausted JK underneath. “Oh, thank god,” he mutters, and nearly falls against the wall.


	9. Week 9

As quiet and secluded as the tree is, JK can't help but hate it. It's cold – at least, at this time of year – and dirty, and there are a dozen other places he can think of that would be more comfortable to use as a meeting place. But today, for this, he wants Joe to be comfortable. To be at ease. He'll sit at the tree and deal with it quietly, damn it.

They haven't said much yet. JK's visits to the counselor's office had ended once he'd gotten his grades up – thanks to a few handy connections in the right clubs – and Joe had been deemed stable enough to only go once every two weeks. Usually, JK muses to himself, when you see a friend less, you have more to say. In their case, it almost seems to be the opposite. The less they see each other, the longer it takes for one of them to start the conversation.

“You're not complaining,” comes Joe's voice from the other side of the tree. JK starts chewing on his lip nervously. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong, really,” he replies quickly. Probably too quickly. He can almost feel the confusion radiating through the trunk. “Just...something I wanted to ask.”

He can hear Joe snort lightly. “It's not like you to hold off. Just ask.”

Somehow, JK wasn't quite expecting his heart to start beating wildly in his chest. Some nerves were to be expected, sure, but not this freight train of anxiety that's beginning to twist up inside of him. He'd already started the conversation, though. He can't end it here. “I'm not sure I can ask it without looking at you,” he says lamely. It's stupid. If he's ready to do this, he can just walk around and do it.

Several long seconds pass before he hears the rustling of grass, and then Joe is in front of him, squatting so that their eyes can't help but meet. “Okay. Now ask.”

JK swallows heavily, his eyes breaking contact to look at something, anything, maybe a cloud. He has to say it now. Everything twists up in his chest and his heart seems to quit beating as the words come tumbling out of his mouth. “I want to be what Sid was to you.”

In this moment, it's like the world has stopped. The clouds cease crawling across the sky. The wind gives up blowing. Even the city sounds in the distance quiet to nothingness and all JK is aware of is the rushing of blood in his ears and Joe's swift intake of breath. 

He's ruined it all. He can tell.

Then there's a warmth against him, lips pressing on his, and he marvels at their soft texture for a heartbeat before realizing that it's actually Joe kissing him. His eyes sting, and at first he's sure it's from tears, but then he understands it's from being open so wide they're beginning to dry out. Joe's head is tilted, just right, and the long black bangs lose their grip behind his ear to fall lightly against JK's cheek. The world goes utterly silent and JK lets the moment take him over completely.

When Joe finally pulls away, all JK can register is the slight curling of his lip into what had to be the beginnings of a smile. “Idiot,” Joe mutters as he looks away. “That wasn't a question.”


	10. Week 10

Halls and doors go flying by as Joe is forcefully pulled into a run through the school, posters blurring into mottled colors until they end up in a back hallway he can't recall ever having seen before. It looks to be largely disused, and they've stopped right next to a door that's practically covered with bright yellow caution tape.

It would be a perfect place to use for more pleasurable activities, Joe can't help but muse to himself, if it weren't for the reason they were here to begin with.

The thought jump-starts his brain back into activity, and he leans himself back against the wall to catch his breath. “What was that thing?” he finally asks.

JK is half-collapsed against the wall next to him, the frantic run through the school having obviously taken more out of him than it had from Joe. “It's a monster,” he says between gasps. Each heaving of his chest causes his coiffed hair to bob gently, and Joe isn't entirely sure it's the right time to reach forward and run his fingers through it. “Trust me, we didn't stand a chance.”

There is no way Joe can possibly argue that point, not after seeing the monster toss lightning about like it was confetti. “That much I figured out on my own,” he says evenly, with maybe a bit more sarcasm than he'd originally intended. It's not that he minds picking on JK when the opportunity arises, but this certainly isn't the time for such playfulness. “I mean, what is it doing here?”

JK can't quite meet his eyes, and there's a pull at the bottom of Joe's stomach. The other boy's body language is screaming deception, and Joe hates it when JK lies. “Obviously causing chaos,” JK finally replies, dodging the real question with as much ease as he can manage. He's still short of breath, but no longer panting desperately for air. 

“You're a terrible liar,” Joe snorts. He won't let JK get away with much anymore. There's just no reason to.

He watches as JK's mask cracks for a moment, and Joe can see fear lying there beneath. He's not sure if he's ever seen anything quite like it on JK's face before, and suddenly he wonders if he really wants to know the truth after all. But after another second the fear disappears, and JK's eyelids seem to grow heavy as the boy solidly meets his gaze.

“Not lying,” JK murmurs quietly, then rolls against the wall to press his body flush against Joe's. “Totally not lying.”

Joe can feel the tremble of JK's breath, the tiny tremor of his heartbeat, both fast and furious after their run. He wants to be upset at the misdirection, wants to question him further about what he knows, but he can feel his control over his actions slipping away. As if moving on its own, his arm loops down and around the smaller boy's waist and pulls him even closer. “Liar,” he whispers, just inches from JK's mouth. 

“You know me too well,” JK breathes back, or at least, that's what Joe thinks he hears before their lips meet and his attention is redirected towards more pleasurable activities. He pulls JK even closer and can feel the boy's moan as much as he can hear it, and JK reciprocates with fingers that dance their way down Joe's chest, the monster temporarily forgotten.


	11. Week 11

For all the exhaustion he finds himself facing at times, there are certain times when JK loves being the party animal that he is.

The camera in the corner of the room is quiet, the light having blinked out just after the two of them had closed the door. The door itself is locked, and even the lights have been turned down lower than usual. In any other karaoke parlor, this would have been cause for concern and likely even gotten them kicked out. But for JK, the biggest high school party organizer this particular parlor has ever seen, it's just another perk of his hobby.

At some point, he muses to himself, there was at least some small amount of belief that they were actually going to sing karaoke together. They'd talked about it at school, once or twice, and he was fairly sure that Joe's favorite theme song was in the system. JK had lost track of the number of songs he could sing just by himself, and the two of them could have had a decent enough time, ordering drinks – another perk – and singing the night away.

But all that is moot now. There are fingers running through his hair, teasing the gelled strands into standing at ridiculous angles by pure accident. He knows Joe is focusing on the feelings of the moment, but each stroke pulls at his scalp in minute ways, sending additional shivers down his spine and pooling at the very prominent spot between his legs. 

His back is pressed into an odd spot between the bench and the wall, and for a moment JK revels in the oddity of being on the receiving end of affections in a karaoke room. More than once his parties had ended in this sort of manner, with some half-drunken girl pulling him on top of her as they did the typical teenage dance of lust and convenience. But this is different, and every different bit of it added yet another layer of excitement. 

Worse yet, he realizes he isn't entirely sure of what to do in this situation when the other person is most definitively male. Holding his own in quick snogs had been easy, but JK finds himself suddenly worried that he won't be able to please Joe. Not in the way he wants.

And then Joe's teeth close gently around his earlobe, tugging slightly, and JK feels electricity shoot downward once again. Whether he can reciprocate or not can wait until it needs to happen.

He has one hand tangled in the black satin ponytail, and the other wrapped somewhere around Joe's sculpted torso, pulling wantonly at the other boy's shirt. It just makes more sense to have their clothes off, doesn't it? Or at least mostly off. JK slides his hand around to crawl its way upwards, trying hard not to tickle as he takes in the feel of everything _Joe._

His fingers brush across a nipple and he feels the sharp intake of breath, followed by a low growl and a growing pressure being pressed against his thigh. For a moment the older boy pulls back and gives him a hungry look that nearly steals JK's breath away. Then his mouth is moving again, fingers pulling at his shirt buttons until they pop open, lips searching their way down his chest until they pause at his hips. Deft fingers move to unfasten JK's belt, then are halfway through the fly itself before Joe turns his gaze up to meet JK's eyes, searching for the answer to an unasked question. 

The rest of the world no longer even matters. JK simply nods, then lets his head fall back and enjoys the moment.


	12. Week 12

Things are beginning to blur together, when they aren't blacking out entirely, and Joe struggles to keep himself awake and conscious. When he focuses he can feel the pain, burning at his side and radiating outwards, and that realization makes him feel a bit better. If he can feel the pain, then he's still alive. That's all that matters.

He knows he's in somebody's arms, strong arms. They're racing through the school again, through narrow hallways and a narrower door, and then the world is bright colorful rainbows and he can hear JK's voice somewhere nearby. The younger boy is talking almost constantly, and the few words that Joe can make out sound tearful and positive. Stupidly positive. Joe tries to snort and finds that it hurts to breathe like that.

The world turns sideways to fit him through another door, and then everything is a blindingly bright white. For a moment Joe fears he's lost consciousness, but then he feels the arms around him lay him down on a table and the cold surface bolsters his confidence. Somebody takes his hand and he spends a moment or two concentrating on breathing and fighting off the pain.

“Is he going to be okay?” are the first words he picks out after the brightness begins to fade into shapes and colors. The hands folded around his own are soft and familiar, and he knows without looking that JK is the one at his side. “He got thrown really far.”

His mind blinks back to just ten minutes before, when he and JK had been grabbing a few minutes to themselves between classes. There had been a loud crashing sound, followed by the younger boy panicking and trying to pull him away as another monster had stormed around the side of the school. The monster had, for some inexplicable reason, taken aim at JK and Joe had done the only thing he could possibly do.

And then his world had exploded in pain. His side twinges and the pain renews as if fresh, and instead of keeping up a solid front, tears well up in his eyes and he cries out pitifully.

“I don't know,” comes another voice from behind him, and Joe is in far too much pain to turn around and see who it is talking. He just holds on to JK's hand, squeezing it tightly and not even worrying that he might be hurting the boy in his desperation for physical contact. “It was a direct hit. I don't even know if we should have brought him here.”

“We can't take him to the hospital, not if we can help it,” JK says almost immediately, and Joe can definitely hear the telltale shake in his voice. He's crying. “He's been in too many fights, something like this, it could...”

Joe tries to smile but can't. JK knows him too well, and he likes to think it's a good thing.

“...it could kill him,” comes another voice, one Joe can't recognize. He forces his eyes open a little wider and sees white walls and smooth corners, students in school uniforms looking at him with various forms of concern etched on their faces. One leans in close and looks at the burnt remains of clothing hanging from Joe's side. “This is no time for pride. He needs to be at the hospital now.”

A female voice says something about calling, and he feels the strong arms lift him once again. But JK's hands are still around his, and he clings to that sensation as the world fades to black.


	13. Week 13

It's cold and chilly on the hill with the tree, and JK wants to complain. Ever since that first kiss they've found other places to meet, other ways to spend time together, even if it turned into less talking and more snogging like the horny teenagers they are. JK can't hate this place – after all, he has some fairly good memories here – but the wind is biting through his coat and the mud is caking onto his new sneakers.

Joe stands across from him, searching for a response. Waiting for an answer, for JK to say everything is okay and that all will be fine. As little as JK knows what's going on inside Joe's head, he knows enough to understand what sort of response Joe is looking for at most given moments. When Joe gives him a pitying look, it means that JK's overworked himself again. When Joe's pinky finger finds its way to JK's belt loop, it's time for them to find a dark alcove for a few minutes. And when Joe shoves his hands in his pockets, staring at a point halfway between the ground and JK's knees, he wants reassurance.

JK can't give it.

“I don't understand,” he finally says, his own eyes turned away and hands slowly curling into fists. “Why?”

He isn't looking at Joe directly, but there's a shift in his peripheral vision and he knows that Joe is upset. Disappointed, in him. “It's not like it's something I can control.” Joe's voice is soft and gritty, still recovering from the four days he spent in the hospital. This tree is a solid place for him, somewhere safe he can run back to in times of need. JK hates knowing that he's ruining that. But he can't deny the anger that's squeezing his heart so tightly he can barely even breathe.

“I wanted you to meet Gentarou,” JK says eventually, glaring at the muddy grass beneath Joe's feet. He wants them to be somewhere warm, somewhere indoors, but at this point he's glad there's no chance of anyone overhearing the things he's about to say. “Kengo, Yuuki, Tomoko, the whole gang, I...wanted you to join us. If you wanted to.”

Joe's stance shifts, just slightly. “Your friends?” he asks slowly, as confused as he'd been when he'd woken up in the hospital with JK by his side. “I don't understand. I thought you didn't-”

“I know what I thought!” JK yells, and his heart twists up so far it feels like it's lodged in his throat. “That's not the point now! The point is-” He stops midsentence. He's not sure he remembers the point anymore.

“I can still meet them, you know.” Joe's voice is tentative, refusing to let go but scared to push too far. The gentleness irks JK more than he would have even guessed. “It's not too late.”

JK shakes his head, even though he's not entirely sure what he's disagreeing with anymore. “But it is too late. You said it yourself. There's nothing you can do.” For the first time in minutes, he drags his eyes up to look at Joe properly. The taller boy looks hurt and lost, and JK hates seeing that on him, but their eyes meet and JK knows what he has to do.

“So...goodbye, then.” The words hurt but he says them anyway, and JK manages to make it halfway down the hill before the tears start to make it hard to see.


	14. Week 14

The night is quiet, both inside the house and out on the street. Weeks ago, Joe would have either been out and about, or at least had music playing quietly to weed out the uncomfortable silence. But all he can do tonight is sit in the corner, cell phone clutched tightly in one hand, and suffer through the incessant tightening in his chest.

A few small streams of light creep into the room from the streetlamps outside, but otherwise the room is dark. His curfew was almost an hour ago, not like he'd been out anywhere, but he figures his parents are more likely to let him be if they think he's asleep. Small towers of boxes stacked around the room cast shadows in the dim light, and he sits behind the largest stack to hide. He's not entirely sure who or what he's hiding from, but it just feels right.

He leans forward, resting his forehead on his knees as he hugs them tightly. His bangs slide forward in a curtain around his face, hiding him further from the rest of the world. In the back of his mind, Joe knows he's been in this place before. Those memories are locked tightly away, but the familiarity remains, and his heart aches even more as he realizes why.

JK had gotten exactly what he wanted.

His fingers curl tighter around the phone, and before he realizes what he's doing he's flipped it open and typed out a text message:

_do you even know what you've done to me_

His thumb slips onto the 'send' button and he feels the aching ease up for a moment as the words disappear from the screen. He stares at the phone, glowing brightly in the dark shadows, and wonders if he's done the right thing.

There's a melodic ring and words appear on the screen:

_what I've done? you're the one who's moving_

Joe winces as the aching returns. Before he can reply, however, another message pops up:

_you haven't been at school since you told me_

His fingers fly: 

_I can't stomach being so close to you but so far at the same time_

The words blink off the screen and Joe waits. He stares at the phone screen for several long minutes, until the screen fades dark to save battery. When it goes black entirely he shuts his eyes, feeling the sting of tears creeping their way down his cheeks. This wasn't how he wanted this to go, but there was only so much he could do. 

The ring comes again and Joe opens his eyes to look at the lit screen:

_funny how our choices limit us, isn't it?_


	15. Week 15

The street looks like any other street, the house like any other house. JK's never been here before, but they've never had the need to be here together. Now he feels like he's doing something that should have been done months before, and the guilt weighs more heavily on his heart than he wants to admit.

One thing that makes the scene different from other streets is the moving truck pulled up out in front of the house. JK stands on the corner and watches as several different people take turns hefting boxes into the truck, then going back into the house to bring out more. He wonders if he should wait for the perfect timing, the perfect moment, and then he shoves his fear down and walks forward anyway.

He's maybe a dozen feet away from the truck when Joe walks into view, carrying three boxes that would be too heavy for almost anybody else his age. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, his muscular arms well-displayed and shining from a light coating of sweat. It's almost cold enough for JK to need his coat, but it's obvious that Joe has been working hard enough to discard all but the most basic of clothes, and JK stumbles in midstep.

Joe stops and looks over, eyes growing wide as he sees who it is. He nearly runs the rest of the way to the truck, shoving the boxes in before taking a few tentative steps towards JK. He's careful, far more careful than JK can stomach, and he hates himself for making Joe feel like he can't be approached.

“Uh, hi,” he says at last, straightening up and looking Joe in the eye properly. He sees confusion and betrayal, and it's all his fault. “Um. You move today.”

“Yeah,” Joe says quietly, then diverts his eyes to the sidewalk. “We'll be at the new house tomorrow night.”

“I'm sorry,” JK blurts out, letting the words tumble from his mouth without thinking. “If you hadn't been there when the monster attacked, if you hadn't gone to the hospital, none of this would have-”

Joe shakes his head, bringing his eyes up back to JK. “Too late to think about that now,” he says quietly. “Dad probably would have taken the job anyway, all that just...made it happen faster.” There's a silence that falls, and JK can't help but feel that Joe is far too kind, refusing to blame him for anything. 

The silence goes on too long. “So,” Joe says finally, hands in his pockets, eyes back to the ground.

A car rumbles past and a door creaks open, and JK isn't even sure anymore where things can go from here. If there is a future for them anymore, or if this is the end after all. He knows he's been stupid, he knows he needs to apologize, but he isn't sure if he can bring himself to do it. Or what he'd even say. And then something pops into his head, and a weak smile climbs onto his face as he slowly looks back over to Joe's face.

“I hear they have some great clubs in Osaka,” he says quietly.

Joe's eyes widen, just slightly, his face pleading as he raises it to meet JK's gaze. “So I hear,” he says slowly. “If you came to visit...we could go find out together.” 

JK smiles. “I think I'd like that,” he says, and he knows that nightclubs are the furthest thing from his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~This fic was such an experiment for me. Writing in present tense, writing something that swirled into my own head because of somebody else, writing snippets of scenes that were practically a week apart - it was an adventure. I hope it was worth reading. <3
> 
> And although this part of the story is complete, there might still be more...


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